Wednesday, February 24, 2010

thanks, I needed that

"Hello, miss," said the cheerful barista. "What can I get for you today?"

"I'd like a venti iced coffee with a shot of caramel, please," I said. My eyes had crusted over. I picked out what the "sandman" had left me and let out a petite yawn.

"Okay, and your superhero name?"

"My what?" Was I dreaming?

"Oh, we're taking all the orders with superhero names today. Who would you like to be?"

And I tell you what, nothing felt better than hearing the cheerful barista, once again, shout aloud in Starbucks:

"I have a venti, caramel, iced coffee for WONDER WOMAN!"

I stepped up to the counter proudly to accept my kryptonite. I mean coffee. For a moment, I was Wonder Woman.

The cheerful barista later informed me that she was a villain. She was playing the role as the Joker. Seemed appropriate. She also wrote "Wonder Women" on my cup. So, not only was I an iconic, patriotic superhero with a golden lasso and invisible plane...I was multiple iconic, patriotic superheros with golden lassos and invisible planes.

You can say what you want to about me, but you can't say that I ever do things half way.

Thanks, Starbucks. You gave me a sense of empowerment, I needed that.

5:45 a.m., Catholic Student Ministries building

There I was with a few of my lovely sorority sisters serving breakfast to our homeless friends in the Harrisonburg area. Our dubious task of the morning involved peeling the shells off of two-dozen hard-boiled eggs.

I was without a touch of make up or even an inkling of a shower. One of the gentlemen looked at me and said, "You are just as beautiful as ever."

I was astonished. There I was, serving these men and women, in their physical needs - serving food. And this man looked out from underneath his own, assumingly, very large problems and reached out to me emotionally.

My friends and I probably live like queens comparitively. Though I struggle financially, I am quite rich. How dare I have the gaul to complain about my lack of funds while I have a warm meal nearly every day and a pillow to rest my worried, weary head on each night. Even still, he reached out to me. Saw the hurt in me.

I was ashamed. Especially when one of our girls complained about the snow. Our friend Charles, who had just taken a swig of Texas Pete (yes, he straight up drank hot sauce) said, "At least you have a place to go..."